It's a Wonderful Burrow
by grangerinvestigations
Summary: Ron's annual selfpity fest takes a turn when he is offered the chance to view what the world would be like if he'd never been born. Future fic, twoshot. RWHG, HPGW.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Obviously this type of story has been done one hundred and and thiry-seven times. A lot of them have even been about Ron, but I never claimed to be original. My best friend and beta, Elizabeth, suggested I write this, to here it is. Happy Holidays, everyone!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Harry Potter _or _It's a Wonderful Life._**

Self-pity - nothing good ever comes of it. It leads to very, very bad decisions. Very _rash _decisions. It's also addictive - what feels better than wallowing in a great old-fashioned pity party? So easy to bundle up, make some hot chocolate and think about all the wrongs that have been done to you; how nothing can go right and it's not your fault. Everybody and everything is against you. Maybe it would just be better for everyone if you had never been born.

That was right where Ron Weasley was. Of course, it didn't feel like self-pity, just honesty. Ron loved his family, but he was the last in line in a succession of clever, smart, good-looking wizards - what was one more? He was neither the cutest, the funniest, nor the most brilliant. What was he known for? His red-haired family and his famous friend. His brilliant, beautiful girlfriend. When people met him they looked puzzled, as if they could not quite see what was so special about him. He saw it in their eyes - Really? _That _guy? _That's _who Harry Potter spends his time with? _That's _who Hermione Granger dates? _He _helped take down the Dark Lord? _Really_?

Ron knew he was lucky. He really did. But he couldn't help thinking that at any moment he would wake up and all those wonderful things would be gone. He and Hermione's relationship was tenuous at best. They just couldn't help driving each other crazy. They fought all the time. Of course, the make-up sex was great, but that wouldn't last forever. And sure, Harry was his best mate - but Harry was also The-Boy-Who-Lived. Twice. He and Hermione may have helped, but it was Harry who vanquished Voldemort once and for all. Harry might say he hated all the attention that went with his story, but Ron suspected that maybe, just a little bit, he liked it. Needed it, maybe. Ron would welcome the attention, the _Daily Prophet_ reports, the admiring fans. Who wouldn't? Of course he'd had his share of press, too. He did, after all, assist Harry in his defeat of Voldemort, and the Weasley's were a well-known wizarding family. Hermione's work with arithmancy was ground-breaking. Naturally Ron would be mentioned a time or two. But where was his feature? His cover story? He didn't think he was being unreasonable or selfish, or belittling anyone else's accomplishments. All he wanted was his fair share.

"Ron, you are a prat," Ginny Weasley said. Ron and Hermione were having dinner with Harry and Ginny. Newly engaged, Ginny and Harry managed to make Ron choke down vomit every time they got together. They were just a little too cute, a little too touchy-feely for his taste. He frankly worried that Harry would grab Ginny and shag her right in front of him one of these days. They were pretty gross, and they were also giving Hermione dangerous ideas. Hermione was the girl for him, Ron had no doubt, despite their constant bickering. He certainly couldn't stand the thought of her with anyone else. But marriage? They already lived together, wasn't that enough? He just wasn't ready, and he could feel Hermione getting antsy during their double dates. Considering the four of them dined together at least once a week, Ron had to deal with Hermione's anvil-sized hints quite a bit. Why she wanted to marry him anyway was truly beyond him. Ron was one of the multitude of people that thought Hermione could do way better.

"Now what have I done, Ginny?" Ron asked wearily. No doubt she'd have a list as long as Harry's Firebolt. _Which is_ not _a double entendre_, he thought to himself. Merlin knows he didn't want to stress about how he measured up in _that _department, too.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us about Hermione's award dinner. It's quite an honor; you'd think you would have sent us an owl with the news."

"I forgot," he said. One more award for Hermione, whoop-de-do. "I figured Hermione would tell you."

"Of course she told us, but being her proud boyfriend, you should have spread the news, too. One would think you didn't care."

"I care, Ginny!" Ron huffed. "Hermione, please tell my sister how proud I am of you. And to shut up."

"Ron's very proud of me, Ginny," Hermione said mechanically. And he was, she knew, but she also thought Ginny was right. Ron did seem a little resentful of her success, especially lately. It was not worth arguing over, though.

"Very convincing."

"Shove it, Gin!" Ron said angrily. "Just because you and Harry are shoved up each other's arses doesn't mean everyone acts like that. I told Hermione how happy I am for her. I tell her every day that she's brilliant and I'm a poor, dumb schlub that wandered into some very good luck."

"Ron, that's not true," Hermione said. "It has nothing to do with luck and everything to do with who you are. I love you." Why couldn't he believe that?

"For unknown reasons," Ginny muttered. "Disregarding Ronald for the moment, Hermione, Fred and George want to throw you a party after the award dinner. Sort of a 'Congratulations, Hermione' slash Happy Christmas party."

"That sounds fun!" Hermione squealed. "Dangerous, considering it's Fred and George, but fun nonetheless. Very generous of them, too. They didn't have to do that!"

"Well, someone should," said Ginny, with another withering look at Ron. "They've promised not to test any new products at the party. Charlie and Bill will be there, and I think they've convinced Malfoy to come, too, since you guys are friends."

"It sounds fantastic."

"Well, you've got everything all figured out," Ron said sarcastically. "Ferret and all. Nice that my family doesn't include me in the planning of my girlfriend's party."

"They wouldn't have to, if you had told everyone about her award," said Ginny. "Why does everything have to be about you? You're acting like a complete arsehole."

"Ooo, upgraded from prat! Any of my other shortcomings you'd care to mention, Ginerva?"

"Guys, cool it, please. You're both acting like children," Harry finally chimed it. He tried to stay out of Weasley family fights, but this was getting a bit ridiculous. Ron was going through one of his depressive states, and Ginny had no patience for it. Harry could see her point - Ron had absolutely nothing to be down about. He was a well-liked, well-known, successful auror, one third of the famed "Golden Trio" and instrumental in defeating Voldemort three years before. That kind of fame did not fade, as Harry knew only too well. Ron and Hermione had been together for the last four years, blissfully happy for the most part. He had a good, good life. But it was like the Triwizard Tournament all over again. Sometimes Ron got in these moods, and time was the only thing that could cure them. Unfortunately, Ginny thought it was complete shite, and was not known to be sympathetic when the doldrums gripped Ron. Hermione was a little better. She knew when to ride it out, and when to give him hell about it. This particular black mood seemed a little worse than usual, though, Harry had to admit.

"You're right, Harry," Ron said. "I'd hate to ruin everyone's great time. I'm going home."

"Ron!" Hermione said. "Please don't go - why are you and Ginny even fighting? My stupid award dinner?"

"It's not stupid, Hermione. Ginny has made that clear, and she's made it clear that I'm not doing enough to tell you about it." Ron knew he _was _being ridiculous, but he couldn't help it. He obviously couldn't do anything right that night - why not go home? He didn't know why it bothered him so much that Fred and George were planning Hermione's party, but it did. Was he invisible? They didn't even tell him they were having one! What if he wanted to throw her a surprise party or something? He hadn't planned on it, of course, but they didn't know that. He also wasn't keen on Charlie coming in from Romania. He swore that Charlie had an inappropriate crush on Hermione. If it weren't for the brothers' code, he thought maybe Charlie would make a move. Who would blame him? And who could blame Hermione if she liked him back? Charlie tamed dragons, for the love of God. Who could compete with that? And don't get him started on Draco "The Albino Ferret" Malfoy. Ever since the fall of Voldemort, and the revelation that Snape killed Dumbledore on the headmaster's orders, Draco was everyone's favorite charity case. Oh, the poor dear, he was forced into servitude. Oh, Malfoy was only trying to protect his family. Oh, Malfoy, make me barf! Hermione forgave him every 'mudblood;' Harry every hex. Even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had him round for dinner at the Burrow. Ron… Well, he wasn't quite as forgiving. No doubt Malfoy also wanted to shag Hermione. He thought he'd caught the odd furtive glance in his direction from Hermione, too. Lord, he needed to go home. His brain was getting a little ahead of itself.

"Ron, please don't go. That's not what I meant," said Harry.

"I know, but I'm going anyway. Hermione, you stay. I'll see you later tonight."

"Interesting that he can make it through the door with that giant chip on his shoulder." Ron heard Ginny say this - loudly - as he left but he didn't turn around. He apparated home and stayed awake until Hermione came in two hours later, at which point he faked sleep so he wouldn't have to talk to her. _Nice and passive aggressive_, he thought guiltily. _No wonder you two are doing so well. Communication is the cornerstone of any successful relationship._

_ O O O O O O_

The party - well, let's just say it wasn't going so well. Hermione was having a wonderful time. Harry and Ginny were having a wonderful time. So were Fred and George, Bill and Fleur, Charlie, Hagrid, Lee Jordan, Neville, Lavender and Parvati. Even Draco Malfoy was mingling with ease. And why shouldn't they? It was Christmas, after all. Hermione had just been presented with a special arithmancy award (he really couldn't be bothered to figure out exactly what it was for) and her status as "cleverest witch of her age" was solidified again. And everyone was oblivious to (or at least pretending to ignore) the fact that Ron was miserable.

It wasn't exactly that Ron wanted Hermione to have a bad time. He really wasn't that selfish, or so he reassured himself. But watching her dance with every wizard in the room, laugh at every joke Ginny told and down every glass of wine she came in contact with - well, it would be nice if she at least pretended to care that he was so unhappy. She would flit by every so often to see if he wanted to dance or needed a refill; he would grunt a reply and she would be off again. And really, why should she sit by his side all night, weighed down by his sour mood while others celebrated her success? Fred and George tried to rouse him, Harry pleaded with him to dance and Charlie attempted to engage him in conversation to no avail. He was determined to be the nastiest, most unaccommodating person there. Ron had felt these black moods before, but nothing like this. This was definitely the worst. Hermione didn't deserve this nonsense, tonight of all nights. He went to find her.

"Honey, I'm going to go."

"What? Why?" Her cheeks were pink from dancing and all the wine she'd guzzled; he watched in sadness as the happy look on her face faded as he spoke to her.

"I've got a headache and it's making me grumpy," he lied. As if he needed an excuse. "I don't want to ruin your good time."

"You're not! Let me give you something for your head. I don't want you to go! You haven't danced with me yet."

"Hermione, I can't dance," he snapped. "My head hurts."

"I'm sorry," she said, close to tears. Why was she apologizing? Why was she crying? This was his fault! She had no idea what in the name of Dumbledore was the matter with him. Headache - yeah right. Ache in her arse, more like. He had been going out of his way lately to make her feel like crap. Well, she wasn't going to put up with it tonight. He wasn't going to spoil her party.

"Sweetie, I'm sorry," he said more gently. "I don't mean to be a jerk. I just don't feel well. I should go; you have fun."

"Fine," she said, wiping her eyes and squaring her shoulders. "I will have fun. You may or may not see me later. Your pathetic attempt to ruin my night has been thwarted."

"Hermione-"

"No, Ron," Hermione said, eyes blazing. "Whatever it is that's been bugging you lately, go home and deal with it. This is my party, and despite your best efforts, you'll not spoil it for me. In fact, I think I'd rather you stayed at the Burrow tonight, so I don't have to tiptoe around in an effort not to see you when - or _if _- I come home. Good night." She spun around, hair slapping him in the face, and marched off.

Ron watched her go, feeling the gaze of more than one disgusted party goer. He locked eyes with a particularly triumphant looking Draco Malfoy, and Ginny shot him a venomous glare as well. Shamed by his behavior, but with no real inclination to apologize, he cast one more look at Hermione and slunk outside.

Normally, Ron would apparate home, but the cold air felt good and clean, and he decided to walk for a bit to clear his head.

"Hermione's better off without me," he said to himself. "I'm screwing everything up. She loves me, so she's going to waste her life waiting for me to grow up. And I'm too selfish to let her go. I'm not helping the ministry like this, and I'm certainly not adding anything to the family except another Percy-sized prat."

His depression was reaching an all-time high (or low) and he continued to mutter to himself, becoming more and more entrenched in self-pity. The sharp, cold air did nothing to shake him from his downward spiral. And in one horrible moment of weakness, he uttered the infamous words: "I think it would be better for everyone if I'd never been born."

"Well, that's a bit extreme, isn't it?" an impossibly cheery voice spoke behind him.

Ron whipped around, wand extended, and stopped short at the person before him. Well, person was not completely accurate.

"Nearly Headless Nick?" he asked in amazement? "What in the hell are you doing here?"

"I prefer Sir Nicholas, as you are very much aware, and I see that age has granted you neither wisdom nor tact. You always did have appalling manners."

"I repeat: what in the hell are you doing here?"

Sir Nicholas sighed. "Well, I guess we're not going to catch up, now are we? No real point, I guess, when anyone can see how you've been keeping busy. Whining."

"Excuse me," Ron said, highly affronted and extremely unnerved. "I don't recall asking your opinion."

"No, but I'll borrow a page out of your copy of _Manners for the Unmannered _and give it just the same. You've got a pretty good life. It's insulting to hear you blither on about it."

"You have no idea what kind of life I have," Ron said, beginning to get angry. "What would you know anyway? You've been dead for centuries."

"Yes, and I still feel less self-pity than you do. You're a disgrace to your House. You think Gryffindors act like this? It's ridiculous! Lucky for you, I'm here on a mission of mercy."

"What are you talking about?"

"You've got a choice. You just made a pretty bold statement. I could make it come true, if you like."

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked.

"There are other realities out there, Mr. Weasley," said Sir Nicholas. "We happen to be in the best one. I could bring one from just below the surface. I could grant you your wish, and you'd never be born. But I thought, as I gesture of good faith from one Gryffindor to another, that I'd let you see what you'd be doing."

"You're crazy. Being dead's really warped your mind. You can't do that."

"I can and I will. Or we can dispense with the "Oh woe is me" right now and you can return to your party. That's probably your best bet."

"No," said Ron, suddenly curious. "I want to see, if you can really do such a thing. Probably some sham cooked up to make me feel bad."

"No, young man, I assure you it isn't. What I show you now is nothing but the truth, and if at the end it's what you want… Well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

Ron stood for a moment, staring at the ghost. He could see no subterfuge in Nick's transparent face. And Peter Pettigrew aside, Gryffindors had a certain honor to uphold. If Nick were here, it was the real deal. Ron was curious. For all his grumblings, did he really wish he'd never been born? Was his life really that bad?

_Maybe it's not about you for a change_, a little voice said. _Think about everyone else. You owe it to them to find out. They might be better off._

"Alright, Nick, I call your bluff."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Harry Potter_ or _It's a Wonderful Life_. **

**AN: This second chapter might seem too hurried (it did to me), but I was working under a pretty tight schedule, and Santa brought me a heaping case of strep throat this year. So, I'm making excuses. Enjoy! Merry Chrismukkah, everyone!**

Ron blinked, and suddenly he and Sir Nicholas were out of the cold winter air. They stood instead in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. At first it looked the same as he remembered, but there was something slightly off. It seemed darker, somehow, and when Ron looked up, he immediately saw why. The ceiling was no longer enchanted. No stars hung brightly, merely standard wrought-iron chandeliers with flickering candles. It had none of the magic and wonder Ron remembered; it looked almost medieval.

"Bit of a change, isn't it?"

"Oh, I get it. I was never born so the ceiling's not enchanted," Ron said scathingly. "Oh my, how will the wizarding world survive?"

"Not exactly," Sir Nicholas said, ignoring his sarcasm. "This is simply one stop on our journey tonight. I thought you'd like to see your old stomping grounds. It's just a bit duller, no?"

"Well, if this is all, let's move on."

"No, this isn't all," said Sir Nicholas. "Look beside you and you'll see some familiar faces. Don't worry, standard rules apply. They can't see or hear you."

Ron looked to his left and gasped at the figures he saw there. It was Fred and George. They were cleaning the floors, but were using soap-filled buckets, not wands.

"I think they deliberately do this," Fred grumbled. "Any one of these professors could scourgify this room in seconds, but no. And the students, oh they know who's cleaning the floors. Extra spills, every day."

"Do they have detention?" Ron asked. "Did we go back in time?"

"I'm afraid not," Sir Nicholas answered. "This is the present, how it would be if you'd never been born."

"So why are they cleaning? Is this some sort of joke? They look weird. Older than they were at the party."

"Just watch," said Sir Nicholas.

"Oh, they absolutely do, Fred," George said. "I was just telling Argus today that he was right all along. The old methods are the best. I've no doubt that the Headmaster will soon agree."

"Knew you'd see it my way, boys," Filch said, ambling into the Great Hall. Mrs. Norris was right behind him. She went to Fred, who absentmindedly scratched her ears. Ron looked scandalized. "Now when you're finished in here, the Owlery needs tending to. Some second years set off a few dungbombs."

"If I catch them at it, it'll be the last thing they do," said George. "We'll be done here directly, sir."

Ron had seen enough. "Okay, what is this rubbish?"

"It's hard to find work when you've been expelled from Hogwarts and stripped of your wand," Sir Nicholas answered calmly.

"_What_?"

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Weasley. It was right at the beginning of their sixth year. They tried their luck in the muggle world, but eventually came back to Hogwarts. The headmaster agreed to hire them to help Mr. Filch. As you can see, they've adapted nicely."

"That's utter crap," said Ron. "There's no way Dumbledore would expel the twins."

"No, no, dear boy," said Sir Nicholas. "Dumbledore is no longer Headmaster. He has not set foot in Hogwarts in ten years."

"Well, he is dead," said Ron.

"Once again, you are the paragon of empathy. However, Dumbledore is not dead in this reality. You might think that's an improvement, but I assure you it's not. Dumbledore is in hiding."

"There's no way," Ron scoffed.

"I'm sad to report it's the truth," Sir Nicholas said. "Following the basilisk attacks, Dumbledore was removed from the school, and since they were never resolved, he was not reinstated. Professor McGonagall, likewise, was fired as his replacement."

"Yeah, right," Ron said. "Who in blazes would fire McGonagall? And Harry took care of the basilisk."

"Your Mr. Potter and this reality's Mr. Potter are two very different men," said Sir Nicholas. "Most of the victims, like your Miss Granger, were restored to full health. But a girl died, and Dumbledore was not allowed back. The attacks stopped after he left, which is certainly what Lucius Malfoy and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wanted."

Ron swallowed hard. "A girl died?"

"I believe you can guess who."

_Ginny_.

"But how can Harry let that happen?" Ron exclaimed. "Surely he would have found some way to save her! He's a hero. They're going to be married. This can't be right."

"Mr. Weasley, perhaps we should go back a little bit."

Ron blinked again, and now they were on the Hogwarts Express.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

Ron watched, dry-mouthed, as eleven-year-old Harry shook Draco Malfoy's hand and walked away from a stricken-looking Neville Longbottom.

"Tell me that didn't just happen. Not even in bizarre world would that happen. Harry would never be so cruel."

"You forget, Mr. Weasley," said Sir Nicholas, "that Mr. Potter did not have positive experiences with muggles, nor did he know much more than Hagrid told him about the wizarding world. Perhaps if Mr. Malfoy had not approached him, things would have been different. It's not too hard to believe, though, is it, that he would welcome the first person who offered friendship? That he would bury himself in Slytherin?"

"I don't believe that!" said Ron. "Okay, so what if I never met Harry on the train? He still knew how bad Voldemort was. Hagrid told him! He told him all about his parents."

"And when young Malfoy filled his head with stories of Hagrid the savage? He knew he'd defeated the most feared wizard of all time," Sir Nicholas said. "In Slytherin, that would make him very powerful. He and Malfoy ruled that House from day one. He wasn't too broken up about the capture and subsequent death of some little blood traitor."

Ron could barely breathe. He pushed the contents of his stomach back down with some difficulty. "Okay, you've convinced me. I don't want to see anymore. You were right, I was wrong. Can we go back, please?"

"Are you sure?" asked Sir Nicholas. "Do you not want to see the lives of the rest of your friends? I got the idea that your feelings of inadequacy mainly stem from Miss Granger."

"She's too good for me," he blurted out. "Okay, so I see Harry needed me to keep his head straight. For Ginny to die without me, well… I can't even talk about that. But Hermione - well, she recovered from the basilisk, right? She would have been fine no matter what. And she could have met some nice, brainy, even-tempered guy."

"I believe you recall the personality of Miss Granger your first year of school? Before you and Mr. Potter saved her from the troll?"

"Did the troll kill her?" Ron asked in horror.

"No, she had no reason to hide in the bathroom without your cruel comments," said Sir Nicholas.

"Do you see what I mean?' Ron said. "We drive each other crazy."

"Indeed," said Sir Nicholas. "As I was saying, without the friendship of you and Mr. Potter, Miss Granger remained slightly more high-strung. Bossy, some might say, although still a brilliant witch. She did thaw a bit during her fourth year, when she attracted the attentions of Viktor Krum."

"Good old Vicky," said Ron disdainfully. "I guess nothing can stop that. It's surprising, though, that they held the Triwizard Tournament without Dumbledore."

"The new Headmaster, Severus Snape, would not miss such an opportunity to hobnob with the Ministry," said Sir Nicholas. "It was wonderful publicity. Even more so when young Mr. Diggory won."

"Cedric living, that's an improvement in this reality," Ron said absentmindedly. "But there's no way that greasy bat made Headmaster."

"Lucius Malfoy is head of the board of school governors," Sir Nicholas said sadly. "He appointed Professor Snape. The Bloody Baron's been intolerable ever since. He did get rid of Peeves, though."

"This just gets better and better," Ron grumbled. "Are you sure this isn't just some put-on to make me feel bad? I assure you it's working."

"Certainly not, Mr. Weasley. Every single person has a destiny, a role to play. When you refuse that role, horrible things happen."

"Okay," Ron sighed. "What about Hermione? Did she marry Krum?"

"They were engaged," said Sir Nicholas. "Two weeks before the wedding, Krum was killed by Death Eaters."

"But I thought Voldemort was gone," said Ron. "Did Tom Riddle sneak out of the diary?"

"He did not," said Sir Nicholas. "He continued to be imprisoned, despite Miss Weasley's death. Actually, Mssrs. Potter and Malfoy restored He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to full strength. They are the leaders of the younger brand of Death Eaters."

"I don't believe you," Ron said. "Mind, you, I can believe it of Malfoy. I've never trusted him, not even since his supposed reform, but Harry? No matter what, that's impossible. What about his parents?"

"A mudblood and a blood traitor," said Sir Nicholas. "Mr. Potter thanks You-Know-Who of ridding the world of them. Oh, and Mr. Weasley, in the world you were so willing to abandon, Mr. Malfoy _has _reformed. You are robbing him of the chance to do so."

"Bugger Malfoy," Ron said. "Where's Hermione? I want to see her."

"I'll show you."

Malfoy Manor, cold, grand, and deadly suddenly loomed before Ron and Sir Nicholas. This could not even remotely be good. Ron had long suspected that Draco harbored a soft spot for Hermione, or rather an unhealthy attraction. If she was here, there were some very dark things happening. Piled on top of horrible things that had already been revealed, Ron felt that his sanity was going to very soon be threatened.

"Come on, Granger," Ron heard Draco say, as the walls of the manor melted and became Draco's bedroom. "Get dressed for a change. I know it kills you to leave my bed, but you have a big day ahead of you."

"I know, Draco," Hermione said, clad in a skimpy green nightgown. Ron moaned at the sight of his beloved sharing a bed with Draco effing Malfoy. "Give me three seconds."

WHAP! Hermione's head flew back with the impact of Draco's strike.

"Try that cheek with the Dark Lord and it'll be Cruciatus," Draco warned her. "Watch your mouth, mudblood, or I'll be the one doling out Unforgivables. If you play your cards right today, you'll get in good with the Dark Lord. I don't mind sharing you with him. He knows, like I do, that mudbloods are good for a few things."

"You're right, Draco," Hermione said dully. "I'm sorry."

"And that's the Dark Lord only, you slut," Draco said menacingly, taking a step toward her. "If I even get a whiff that you've been shagging Potter again, you'll beg for death."

"I know, Draco," she said again. "I'm not doing anything with Harry. I never was. He's your best friend. I know my place here, Draco. I'd never do that."

"Let's hope for your sake you're telling the truth."

"Sir Nick," Ron gasped. "I'm going to be sick."

Sir Nicholas looked on calmly while Ron retched onto the floor of Malfoy Manor, which faded again until they were outside once more.

"It's not pleasant," Sir Nicholas agreed. "Not quite how it looks, though. When Krum was killed, probably on young Malfoy's orders, Hermione joined a resistance group."

"The Order?"

"A shell of the Order," Sir Nicholas said. "She is working from the inside to bring down the Death Eaters."

"As a whore?" Ron spat the words out. "The Hermione I know-"

"This is not the Hermione you know," Sir Nicholas reminded him gently. "She is doing what she thinks is best. She's playing on Mr. Malfoy's weakness for her, but she's underestimated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She is also sleeping with Mr. Potter, which is why Malfoy is telling You-Know-Who that Potter is a traitor. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has long had the Chosen One Prophesy in the back of his head. Young Malfoy's obsession with Miss Granger gives him an excuse to kill Mr. Potter."

"Voldemort's going to kill Harry?" Ron whispered.

"Yes," said Sir Nicholas, "and Miss Granger, too. He can't afford to have Malfoy care about anyone but him."

"What can we do?" Ron asked. "This is madness."

"You can stop all this self-indulgent bullshit, quit feeling sorry for yourself and get back on track," Sir Nicholas said. "You've got a great life: wonderful girl, fulfilling job and family and friends who love you. Knock this rubbish off."

Ron took a deep breath. The horrors he had seen tonight did more than Hermione's reassuring words of love ever had, but he knew from this day forward he would believe everything she said. He was heartily ashamed of his behavior. He was a good man, with a good life. It was time to live it.

"Done," he said, raising his eyes to Sir Nicholas.

In a wink, Sir Nicholas was gone and Ron found himself outside the Burrow. It had never looked so warm and inviting before. He raced inside, calling for his mother. Mr. Weasley was at Hermione's party, but Mrs. Weasley, citing last minute Christmas duties, had stayed home. She looked up at surprise at the sudden intrusion of her youngest son.

"Mum," he gasped, out of breath. "Can you go get it, please? I need it right now."

"Oh, Ronnie," she exclaimed, knowing exactly what he was talking about. "As soon as you're done, you both come right back here. Bring everyone with you."

"I will," Ron said. He paced back and forth, waiting, while his mother went upstairs. Moments later, she flew down the stairs, holding a small ring box.

"I love you, Ronnie," she said, tears right below the surface. "You're a good boy."

God, how could he have been so blind to the love in his life? It would not happen again. He grabbed his mother in a fierce huge. "I love you, too. We'll be back soon."

Without another word, Ron apparated back to the party. He looked for Hermione, and was crushed anew to see her sitting forlornly by herself at table.

_I am such a prick_, he thought, and the self-hatred threatened to wash over him again. Images of Hermione in Draco Malfoy's bed were enough to push it back down. _You are done with this crap. Now go get the girl._

"Hermione?" Ron said tentatively, walking over to her. She looked up in surprise, and her eyes looked very bright, as if tears would erupt any second.

"Ron? What are you doing back here?"

"Apologizing," he said, kneeling in front of her. "Baby, I am so sorry I've been acting like such a jerk lately."

"Hallelujah," Ginny said from behind them. Ron looked up in surprise. Ginny stood with her arms crossed, shooting daggers at him.

"Butt out, Ginny," said Harry, sliding up beside her. She glared at Harry, then Ron, but said nothing more.

"No, she's right," Ron said. "I've been unforgivable lately, Hermione, and the only thing I can say is I'm sorry, and it's not going to happen again. Well, of course I'll probably be a prat sometimes, it is ingrained, after all, but I'm going to remember that you are the best thing in my life."

"You really hurt me," Hermione said, still holding back tears. "This was a big night for me."

"I know, sweetie, and if you'll let me, I'd like to make it even bigger." He pulled the box Mrs. Weasley had given him out of his pocket. Opening it, he pulled out his great-grandmother's heirloom diamond ring. "Do you think you would give me the chance to make it up to you for the rest of my life?"

Ginny gasped and Hermione started crying in earnest. The rest of the party stopped. All eyes were on Hermione and Ron.

"Hermione, I realized tonight that I was born to be with you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and I am beyond blessed that you see fit to love me. I'm nothing without you, and I think it goes both ways. We were destined for one another. I love you, and I want you to marry me."

Hermione flew into his arms. "Yes!!!"

The crowd went wild. The band struck up a jaunty Christmas tune and everyone descended upon them to offer congratulations. Ron even got a sincere handshake from Draco Malfoy and thought about what Sir Nicholas had said. If he was really reformed, he'd give this whole forgiveness thing a try. He offered back an equally sincere 'thank you.'

When some of the excitement had died down, (the 'Congratulations Hermione' banners now said 'Congratulations Hermione and Ronniekins'), Ron turned to his only sister.

"You were right, Gin," he said, engulfing her in a hug. "I've got my head straight now, though. I love you."

"I love you, too, big brother," she said. "But don't muck this up, or I'll kick your arse."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Ron replied, grinning at her. He turned from Ginny to greet Harry, who already had his arms slung around Hermione.

"This is the second happiest I've ever been in my life," Harry said, his eyes bright and his smile wide. "First, of course, was when Ginny said yes to me. My two best friends getting married… Well, words can't express my feelings right now, so let's settle for a three-way hug."

They stood there for a long time, arms wrapped tight around each other, feeling happy, safe and loved. When at last they broke apart, Hermione kissed them both, then grabbed Ron's hand. She looked over her shoulder to see Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, Charlie and Bill smiling at her. They had all hugged and congratulated her already, but seeing them, her new family, all together, made her start crying again. Laughing, Charlie pulled her away from Ron and into another hug.

"Well, little sister," he said fondly. "You are entering into a scary new world. You're going to need to set aside at least twenty hours per week for in-depth wedding sessions with Mum, Ginny and Fleur. Think you can handle it?"

"Well, after defeating the Dark Lord," she laughed, "this will be…easily the scariest thing I've ever done, and that includes defeating Voldemort."

"Hey," Ginny cried. "Weasley women aren't that bad, Hermione. You'll see. You're one of us, now."

"She always has been," Mr. Weasley offered, earning him a dazzling smile from Hermione.

"Alright, Weasleys, Potters," Ron said, clapping his hands together. "Away to the Burrow. Mum's waiting for us."

He clasped Hermione's hand and whispered "Happy Christmas" in her ear as they apparated.

"I love you, Ron," she responded.

"I love you, too," he said. It was going to be a very happy New Year.


End file.
